


Toys

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-07
Updated: 2005-10-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Some toys aren't meant to be shared.





	Toys

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Remus sits on the patio, drinking tea while watching Neville work, weeding one of the flowerbeds in the back garden. The Lupins can’t afford a gardener, not really, not with Tonks’ Auror salary and Remus unable to work at all due to his lycanthropy.

He had met Neville while window-shopping in Diagon Alley. They’d chatted awhile until Remus mentioned how Tonks kept complaining about their home’s increasingly overgrown state. Neville had offered to come once a week, free of charge, to tend their garden.

I owe you, he’d said, from third year.

Remus had accepted, believing the problem solved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tonks had known Remus liked birds and blokes equally when they married. She had known of his relationship with her cousin before Sirius’ death. She had reassured him repeatedly that she was comfortable with that knowledge.

Then she’d admitted she also liked birds and blokes. Fidelity wasn’t an issue. There would be times when they’d want a fling on the other side of the fence, and she had no problem with that.

We can share our toys,, she’d said.

Watching Neville on his hands and knees, mulching the rosebushes, Remus isn’t sure he wants to share this potential new toy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville has become comfortable enough in Remus’ presence to share a cup of tea with him each Friday before he begins work. They sit at the breakfast table, chatting about mutual friends and acquaintances, swapping life stories.

“Can I ask a personal question?” he asks one day. When Remus nods, he continues, “Why do you call your wife Tonks?”

“She hates Nymphadora. She doesn’t even like Dora,” Remus replies. “She’s always answered only to Tonks.”

Neville falls silent for a moment, musing. “I never liked my name, either. Doesn’t mean I won’t answer my friends when they use it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus brings Neville a glass of cold lemonade and invites him to join him in the shade for a few minutes. Neville takes off his gardening gloves, and their fingers brush as the tumbler exchanges hands. Remus represses a shiver of longing with only the greatest of effort.

“Thanks.” Neville drinks, closing his eyes in quiet bliss.

They sit comfortably beneath the single tree in the back garden. Neville sips more lemonade and rests his head against the trunk. Remus watches him brush the sweat from his forehead with one forearm and wishes he could lick the salt away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I had a crush on you when I was thirteen.” Neville says this with a flush to his cheek that is more than mere sunburn, yet his gaze remains steady.

Instead, it’s Remus who ducks his head, breaking eye contact. “You never struck me as the type who liked grey hair and scars,” he demurs.

“You were the first person who believed in me. The first person who made me want to believe in myself.”

Remus looks up again, meeting sincere brown eyes. His hand stretches across the table, curving over Neville’s.

 

“I still believe in you,” he says.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Remus, you shouldn’t have,” Neville says, despite his obvious delight.

“Chocolate makes everything better.” Remus sets down the cake and lights the candle, wondering when someone last gave Neville a gift of any kind. “Happy Birthday.”

Neville purses his lips and blows out the candle. The sight sends a jolt through Remus. He tries to imagine those lips wrapped around his cock, knowing that whatever Neville wishes for, Remus isn’t one of them.

There’s a dab of chocolate frosting on Neville’s mouth. Remus pretends it’s wistfulness he sees in Neville’s eyes as he wipes it clean with his napkin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Weeks of observance have strained Remus’ self-control to the breaking point. When he kisses Tonks; visions of Neville stripping off his shirt, his back gleaming with perspiration dances behind his closed eyelids. When he comes deep inside Tonks’ body it’s all he can do not to shout Neville’s name.

Tonks is an Auror; she’s not blind to the changes. “Remus, do you have a toy you’re not sharing?” she asks one morning over coffee and pastries, raising an eyebrow (violet-coloured today).

“No,” he replies, taking another pastry. He’s not lying, he tells himself. Yet.

Clearly, something needs to change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The gardens begin to surrender their bounty. It seems that Neville’s always bringing in another supply of vegetables and herbs; every vase is filled with cut flowers.

Neville has been coming over twice a week since his birthday, now that there’s so much to do. He helps Remus arrange the flowers, store the vegetables.

Neville cuts his finger one day while slicing cucumbers for sandwiches. Remus takes his hand and brings it to his lips, licking the blood away.

“Remus…” Neville doesn’t pull away. He bites his lip. “Remus, I…”

That first kiss is everything Remus imagined, and more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville is reverent and shy, kissing each and every one of Remus’ numerous scars gently, his fingers tracing circles and spirals over Remus’ skin as he moves lower. Remus is shocked to discover that Neville has never been with anyone until now. Neville, he learns, has always believed nobody would ever want him that way.

Remus is determined to prove otherwise. Neville is broad-shouldered and well-muscled, a small potbelly the sole remnant of childhood chubbiness. “You are beautiful,” Remus tells him, over and over again.

“If you say so,” Neville replies, blushing before taking Remus into his mouth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There are days where the garden is neglected completely in favour of the bedroom. For such a quiet, introverted man, Neville is quite vocal when caught in passion’s throes; and Remus enjoys taking every opportunity to make him whimper, gasp, cry out and plead.

Neville’s breathless moans excite him, licking at the bite marks on his throat, body arching beneath him as he pinches Neville’s nipples between his fingers. He can do anything he wants, and Neville allows it.

The sight of that strong young body marred with bites and scratches sometimes fills Remus with nagging guilt. But only sometimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day Neville agrees to let Remus take him completely is possibly one of the happiest in his life. He takes great care in preparing him, his tongue laving Neville’s opening, making him writhe, gasping in pleasure. Neville sobs, pushing back into Remus’ hand while he’s stretched gently; finger by finger, fisting the sheets each time Remus strokes his prostate. He’s begging for something, anything, by the time Remus positions himself and slowly breaches that virgin arse, thrusting hard and fast.

Neville kisses him when it’s over; and Remus tastes the salt of his tears like a blessing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Summer turns to autumn. Neville spends most of his days raking leaves and preparing the herb and flowerbeds for the following spring, when he doesn’t have Remus’ cock in his mouth or hilt-deep in his arse. Remus tries to remember the last time he made love to his own wife. Several weeks, at least.

He realises he doesn’t want to share Neville with anyone, especially not with Tonks (not Nymphadora or Dora, but Tonks). It’s been so long since he truly had somebody who was his, not since his days with Sirius, who loved him with such pure undivided devotion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus brings Neville a steaming cup of cocoa, warmed by his smile and the touch of his gloved hand as he takes it and sips. He’s planting the last of the spring bulbs today, before the first frost. After that there won’t be any real reason for him to come over until next March.

“I suppose you won’t be over next week,” Remus says. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time.”

Neville blinks, confused. “But…I want to come.”

The unintended double entendre is the only invitation Remus needs. “I’ll bet,” he murmurs, kissing Neville hard, possessively.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I thought so.” Tonks leans against the doorjamb, her arms folded across her chest. “Remus, we had a deal. You promised.”

Remus freezes at the voice, his hands still gripping Neville’s hair, his cock still shoved halfway down Neville’s throat. “Tonks…” he says, pushing Neville away.

“We share our toys. No, stay.” She looks down at Neville, who is reaching furtively for his clothes. “Longbottom, isn’t it? You’ve certainly earned the name. You’ll play with me, won’t you?” Her gaze rakes his body.

“Remus?” Neville stares at him. “Do I…?”

Tonks smiles when he whispers, “We had a deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville doesn’t return the following week, or the week after that. Remus receives an owl the following Wednesday.

Dear Professor Lupin,

You once taught a scared thirteen-year-old boy to believe in himself, to trust in his own magic and abilities. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without that belief, and for that you have my eternal gratitude.

In all conscience, I can no longer be your gardener. I hope that someday you find what you’re looking for. I won’t be coming again.

I believe I’m no one’s toy to be passed around. I deserve better.

Sincerely,

Neville

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus and Tonks’ marriage dissolves soon after, following countless battles. She lets him keep the house as part of the divorce decree, along with a small monthly stipend. It’s enough to pay for rent, utilities and food, and not much else.

He hears that Neville has taken a job at a magical plant nursery and is seeing a girl now, one that, by all accounts, makes him happy. She works for the Ministry, and the rumour is that she’s going places.

Remus wonders sometimes, idly, whether or not Susan Bones shares her toys. Somehow, he doubts that very much.

Author's Notes: I completely blame mamadeb for this fictional travesty. She asked for Remus/Neville, and then gave me free reign to do as I pleased. This, unfortunately, is the result. Written for mctabby's Blame Each Other exchange. I even managed to finish before midnight!


End file.
